The Cat and the Wolf
by Dresden-is-my-homeboy
Summary: Caitleen Hawkes shares her own version of what happened in Kirkwall during her time there, her grudging rise to power, and the men and women who stood by her. This is a story of things gained and lost, and what it takes to be a true hero.
1. Chapter 1

The morning sun shone brightly on my face and I blinked blearily up at the new crack in the ceiling, squinting my eyes against the light that shone mercilessly through. For a moment I considered pulling my pillow over my face and going back to sleep, but I knew it wasn't an option this morning. Groaning, I slid out of bed, wincing when my bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. I can't complain too much, many of the little houses in Lowtown had only dirt floors, and no one here was going to was perfectly good coin on carpeting.

I glanced over at my mothers bed, empty, she had probably been up for hours. She had a penchant for going out to the early morning markets as often as she could. It worried me a little when she went by herself, there are far too many pickpockets and worse that plague the streets of our lovely city. When I last had brought up my concern with her, she had given me an indulgent smile and patted my arm, going on about how she was perfectly safe and how Kirkwall was her childhood home.

I dispelled thoughts of my mother and her dubious safety, and blundered over to the chest holding the entirety of my belongings. The creak of the hinges was loud enough to make me wince, and I glanced guiltily at the screen separating our side of the room from Carver's. I listened intently for any sign that I had woken my brother up, but was greeted with nothing more than a bit of snoring. Heaving a sigh of relief, I rummaged through the meager contents of the chest, retrieving a tunic and trousers. I looked them over critically, both were starting to look a little threadbare, and the pants had the beginnings of a hole in the knee. Not that there would be much I could do about it until Carver and I found work again.

Our year of working with the mercenary group known as the Red Irons was up, and, while Meeran was as good a man as could be expected from that line of work, life as a hired sword did not suit me. He had made it clear that, should we run short on coin, he'd be willing to shunt any extra work my way. Carver had been willing to stick on with the merc group, but Meeran had made it very clear that he was not interested in Carver if I was not also a part of that deal. I winced inwardly, my little brother had yet to forgive me, and he was not quiet about his disdain for 'standing in my shadow again'.

Still lost in thought, I dressed, carefully lacing up my knee high boots over the trousers in an attempt to hide the hole in the knee. I retrieved the bright red ribbon from the bowels of the still open chest and attempted to tie my hair back. My hair is thick and unruly, not a bad thing when I had let it grow to the middle of my back, but only the week before I had not been careful enough during a fight and some bastard had managed to sneak up and grab me by the braid. I had had no time to think before hastily grabbing for my dagger and slicing myself free. Now I was left with a mass of springy, dark curls that refused to stay out of my face unless restrained.

I peeked around the screen to see if my brother was up yet. No such luck. I let my shoulders droop a little, resigned to having to get him out of bed myself. Quietly I scrounge around till I found the pair of socks he had worn yesterday. I picked them up gingerly, handling anything that has been in prolonged contact with my brothers feet is not for the faint of heart, and lobbed the smelly, wooly things one after another at his face.

He sat up with a start as both of my missiles found their target. Still half asleep, he lunged out of bed snarling and reaching for the huge broadsword he keeps within arms reach. I darted back around the screen, hoping that he would wake up enough not to cut me in half.

"Cat" he growled, and I peeked back around the screen to see him delicately holding the offending socks with two fingers. When he caught sight of me he gave me a wolfish grin and grabbed for my arm with his empty hand. I let out a squeak and tried to dodge backward, tripped over my own feet and landed on my rump. His grin became triumphant as he followed me to the floor and proceeded to scrub the dirty socks all over my face.

Hey, I may be an amazing mage and all, but he outweighs me by half my weight again, and he is almost a foot and a half taller, I can't be expected to raise any sort of good defense against that. Besides, I kind of deserved it, those socks smelled bad.

He finally let off, standing back up and offered me a hand up. I took it. That's kind of our relationship in a nutshell, we pick on each other, beat each other up, but are always there to pick the other up when they need it.

"Good morning dearest brother" I said, pulling a face as I tried to repair the damage being rolled around on the floor had done to my hair. He took a long look at me and burst out laughing.

"You look like you've just been hit by lightning again"

I sighed, giving up on the futile battle that was my hair.

"I'm going to go see if mother is back," I said, turning him about by the shoulders and giving him a little push, "and you need to get ready to go, we're going to go see if that dwarf Bartrand is still in need of people for that Deep Roads expedition of his".

Carver obligingly departed, and I left him to dressing.

As I poked my head into the main room I heard a quiet, off-key humming. I smiled to myself, it could only be mother. She always said that my singing voice was another thing I got from my father, no one on her side of the family could carry a tune. She must have heard me, for I had barely exited the bedroom when she turned toward me. She, unlike my brother, had the grace to at least attempt to restrain her mirth at the sight of my hair. Her gaze turned a little pitying, and she brushed her hands off briskly on her apron, motioning me to take a seat.

"Caitleen," she said, a little reproachfully, "you know better than to antagonize your little brother"

The obliging brother stuck his head out the door, and winked at me. Mother gave him a tight-lipped frown, "And you should know to pick on people who can defend themselves"

Carver and I rolled our eyes and chimed, "Yes mother" together. We swapped nearly identical grins, and he pulled his head back into the bedroom.

"Don't think I didn't see that you two," Mother was still trying to sound severe, but I could hear the note of amusement in her voice. With gentle hands, she deftly begin braiding back bits of my hair, slowly taming the beast. In less time than it took me to cast a healing spell, she had it subdued, and Carver was standing before me, anxious to get moving.

Mother crossed her arms and frowned at us. "I'll not have you two running all over this city on empty stomachs, the dwarf can wait till you have eaten".

Carver gave in immediately. All it takes is the mention of food and I'm sure my brother would trek through the fade willingly. We ate quickly, an unspoken agreement that the sooner we made it to the Merchants guild the better our chances.

Mother was worriedly chewing on her her lip as Carver finished lacing up his boots. She turned to me quietly, "Be careful Kitten," I knew she was worried when she lapsed back to my childhood nick-name.

I gave her a brief hug. "Don't worry mama, we'll get this for sure".

"I know," she said, "That's what worries me, I don't like the thought of you going down into those Darkspawn filled tunnels".

Carver cut in, "We've fought them before mother, we know what to expect".

"I know you have," she said a little too sharply, I saw the brief flash of pain on her face before she turned away, "and look how well that ended last time".

I had to look away, guilt and grief vying for my attention. The last time we had been up against Darkspawn, we had lost my little sister, Carvers twin. Mother still blames me for her death, and I cannot find it in my heart to fault her. I know there is nothing I could have done, yet... I still don't like to think about it. Her memory is still too close, to painful.

I

took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly, regaining control over my raging emotions.

"It'll be OK mother," I bit my lip, laying a hand on my mothers trembling shoulder, "We will be safe" "Besides," I said cheerfully in an attempt to lighten the mood, "we still have to face the dwarf, and he's supposed to be as fearsome as a horde of Darkspawn". My tactic seemed to work, for she let out a timorous little laugh.

"Good luck my little Hawkelets".

I gave her another quick hug before Carver and I left Uncles house.

Carver has a tendency to go charging off ahead without waiting to be sure I can keep up, and I've mastered the art of the skip-hopping gate that anyone habitually traveling with much taller people gains. Today however, I was practically having to run to keep up with him, cursing my short legs under my breath the whole way. I almost lost my brother around a corner more than once. I get lost in Hightown fairly easily. The streets make little sense, and, I'll admit, I have a hard time ignoring the snide comments from the gentry living there.

"Not that any one of them would pass up the opportunity to hire me out", I grumbled as I ran. Indentured servitude it might have been, but by the time our year was up Carver and I were the most requested team in the Irons, and I had made quite a name for myself among the sell-sword types as the best healer money could buy.

I caught up to Carver and hooked my fingers into the back of his belt, slowing him down enough that I could stay level with him. He glanced over his shoulder, startled, but only made a face when he saw I was the one dragging him down.

"We're not in so big a rush that you can't wait for your poor short sister", I whined breathlessly.

He kept walking, though he slowed a bit for me. "Sorry, I'm just worried that the whole expedition is going to fill up before we make it".

I patted him genially on the arm, "no worries brother mine, he wouldn't be so foolish as to turn down an offer from the Hawke siblings". At least I hoped so. Carver jerked his arm away from me, glowering.

"Hawke siblings", he mocked, "you know as well as I they only ever want you". He stalked on toward the merchant guild.

"You know that's not true," I said exasperated, "we are a team. I'm not much good without you along". I wasn't sure, but he seemed a little mollified, and his gate slowed back to a reasonable pace.

We entered the Merchant guild side-by-side. Carver was the first to spot Bartrand, the dwarf in charge of the whole operation. My brother made a beeline for the dwarf, almost yanking me from my feet when he grabbed a hold of my arm to tow me after.

"Good day", my brother said by way of announcing us, "word is that you might be looking for extra hands for an expedition".

The dwarf stared at Carver for a moment, then turned away disgustedly and began to walk away. I sighed, there was a reason I usually did the talking. Carver was, how to put this, blunt. It worked well enough for him on the battlefield, but not so well when job hunting. I hastened after the dwarf.

"We have skills that would be invaluable to you once you are down there, my brother and I have fought darkspawn before", I said, trying to keep the pleading note out of my voice. I don't think it worked, because the turned and gave me a sneering once-over.

"I don't need any more of you on this expedition", he snapped. "You're just looking for a quick way out of the slums". He huffed and turned away, "you and every other Fereldan in this dump. Go find yourself another meal ticket".

My shoulders slumped, and I turned resignedly to my brother, who was staring after the offending dwarf with barely contained rage.

"Come on then," I murmured, "we're not doing any good here".

We set out for Lowtown in despondent silence. My head was racing, trying to come up with another way to gain th favor of the prickly dwarf. We needed to earn some money. Any way to get us out of my uncles place and into a home of our own.

Beside me Carver heaved a sigh, "We have to do something," he groused, "You need to lay low for a while or get out of town. It's your Templars we are hiding from after all".

"Why are you so worried", I said archly, "after all, like you said they are _my_ Templars".

He looked aghast, "did I really sound like that"?

I nodded and he slumped a little.

"I'm sorry, I sounded just like Uncle Gamlen there didn't I". He brightened then, a thought coming to him, "He's better at this stuff than we are, and he knows people. Maybe we could have him talk to Bartrand".

I mulled the thought over for a moment, "you catch more flies with honey" I laughed a little, "but maybe Gamlen's bullshit will work as well".

As we continued, my head was still racing so much that I didn't notice the pick-pocket until too late. He had already taken my coin pouch and was halfway to the corner before I realized what had happened.

Out of nowhere, a crossbow bolt came flying, it pinned the young man against a building by his shoulder. The bolt was followed shortly by the most handsome dwarf I had ever laid eyes on. He retrieved my coin, and the bolt, saying something to the youth I couldn't quite catch. It must have been pretty intimidating though, for as soon as he was free the young man took off in the opposite direction, clutching his shoulder.

The dwarf sauntered toward us, idly tossing my purse with one hand. He was clean shaven, odd for a dwarf, and his blond hair was caught back in a partial tail. He had a huge crossbow slung across his back, and his coat was open, as was his shirt, revealing a good deal of curling chest hair, a touch darker gold that the hair on his head. He caught me staring and smirked. I felt myself turn red as my own dark eyes met ones the color of burnished copper. I quickly averted my eyes, mortified. Next to me Carver was shaking with suppressed mirth.

The dwarf tossed my coin purse to me, nonchalantly twirling the bloodied bolt he had pulled from the pickpockets shoulder. "How do you do? Varric Tethras at your service".

With practiced skill, he sheathed the bolt, making the movement a slight bow. I smiled at him, recovering quickly from my embarrassment. I also managed to 'accidentally' trod on my brothers foot slightly as I tucked the coin purse back into my belt.

Varric noticed the movement and his smile widened as he continued "I apologize for Bartrand, my brother wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw".

I looked at him skeptically, "but you would"?

"I would," he affirmed, "What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you". "Not," he conceded, "that he would admit it, he's far too proud". Varric looked me in the eye again, "I however, am quite practical".

I eyed him suspiciously, "you're a part of this", I asked, raising an eyebrow. Carver let out a little huff of air as though to speak, but the dwarf beat him to it.

"That's right. The deep roads wouldn't normally be my thing, but I can't let him go down there alone" his tone suggested that his brother going alone wouldn't be a bad thing, but he continued, "So as you might imagine, I have more than a passing interest in the success of this expedition".

I nodded slightly, still a little suspicious, "What makes you think we can help, you no nothing about us".

His smirk said otherwise, "On the contrary, you've made quite a name for yourself over the last year". He looked at me, "the name 'Hawke' is on many lips these days" He nodded, "not bad for a Fereldan fresh off the boats".

I was a little surprised by that, "they must mean my brother mostly" I said, not missing the way Carvers chest puffed a little as I said it.

Varric shook his head, "Some I suppose, but mostly they speak of the pretty Hawke who always gets the job done".

Carver huffed, "That figures". I could hear the pout in his voice.

Varric shrugged off the grumbling of my little brother, "He can come too if you want, but I'll leave it in your hands".

"Oh, I'm going. No way I'm going to leave my sister alone with this venture", Carver stated.

I might have thought he was just being a good brother, but I knew him too well. No way would he stand aside while an opportunity for glory presented itself.

"Besides," he continued, "without the expedition we won't last the year".

I glared a, then conceded to the inevitable. "All right, there must be a way to convince your brother to hire us".

Varric smiled slyly up at me, "We don't need another hireling, we need a partner". He began pacing, "Truth is, Bartrand's been pulling out his beard trying to fund this on his own, but he can't do it". He looked back at me, eyebrow cocked, "Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can't refuse, especially with me there to vouch for you."

I nodded, he had a good point, but I was still worried. "Your brother doesn't seem the type to split a profit." I said chewing on my lip.

He patted my arm, "my brother may be many things, but he's not stupid. It's better to split profit than be trapped in a thaig with thousands of darkspawn between you and the exit". "Trust me", he said emphatically, "He'll come around".

Carver and I looked at each other, he nodded but frowned. I turned back to the dwarf, heart sinking. I had no way to get that kind of money.

"It sounds interesting, but if I had that kind of gold, we wouldn't need this job", I said, a little glum. I could see this golden opportunity slipping away from me as soon as I had found it. To my surprise Varric didn't walk away. He shook his head, a strange smile on his lips.

"You need to think big! There's only a brief window when the dark roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family for life".

I had a sudden thought of my mother living in a real home, and of Carver being able to go on his own pursuits, and best of all, having the money and power to get the Templars off my back. The greed must have been showing as clearly on my face as it was on Carvers.

"Come on," he said, "the dwarf makes some sense, no offence". He lay a hand on my shoulder, "Look, you started this, and it's a much better idea than ending up in the Gallows."

I had to give him that, last thing I wanted was to end up in the circle, or worse, I shuddered, tranquil. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I did not want to go to the dark roads, I did not want to fight any more darkspawn, but it looked like I had no choice. I nodded at Varric, and he gave me a relieved smile.

"We work together, you and I, and before you know it you'll have all the capital you need." He looked at me expectantly, "what do you say".

"I'll do it", I said, feeling as though a weight had settled into my stomach. Beside me, Carver made a small, pleased sound.

Varric grinned at me, "Perfect, Kirkwall's crawling with work. You'll just need to set aside a little coin from every job, and you'll have the money in no time".

Carver chimed in, "Easy, and we should ask Aveline if she has any bounties out, She joined the city guard right?" He looked so excited about the prospect of new adventures that I couldn't help but grin back at him. Deep roads or not, perhaps things were looking up for us.

Varric began walking, "we should talk privately when you get the chance", he said quietly to me, "At the Hanged Man maybe, I have a room there".

"Sure", I said, "see you later then".

He winked at me, and I once again felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Carver was tugging at my arm, and I let him pull me away as I watched the crossbow laden dwarf disappear in the crowd. I couldn't shake the feeling that Varric Tethras was about to become very important to me.


	2. Chapter 2

After our meeting with Varric, Carver and I headed back to Gamlen's house. Officially for lunch, but I suspected that Carver wanted to tell mother of our success. We were both in high spirits all the way back to the house. Discussing our options and throwing out ideas to make extra coin.

Once there however, we walked into the middle of an argument.

"I find it hard to believe they left me nothing at all", my mother exclaimed as we walked in the door. Carver and I exchanged glances, sighing in unison. Mother and Gamlen were barely civil to one another at the best of times. Now they had the look of two back alley cats with their hackles up, about to send fur flying.

"Well, mother was pretty steamed when you ran off with your Fereldan apostate", Gamlen spat back at her.

"I'm still their daughter", mother cried, "Their eldest". She looked to be on the verge of tears. Carver nudged me towards her. I glared back at him, why was I alway the one saddled with peacemaking? I took a couple of steps forward, intent on getting between them before mother broke down completely.

She took a deep breath, and I thought "oh no, here come the waterworks". I was wrong. Mother took a step forward and jabbed her finger into Gamlen's chest, sparks flying from her eyes.

"My children have been in servitude", she spat, "_servitude_, for a year". She took _another_ step toward Gamlen, and he gave ground! I glanced at my brother, certain that the look on his face was mirrored in mine. He gave me a shrug and a, 'Damned if I know what's going on' look.

Gamlen had been nearly backed into the wall by mother when I looked back. "They should be nobility", she growled.

"Well", he sneered, and I had to admire his audacity if nothing else, "If wishes were poppy, we'd all be dreaming". I broke in then, for all that I wanted to she mother give him the talking too that was due to him.

I gently grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her a step away from Gamlen. "You mean this isn't a dream?" I quipped, "No wonder I can't wake up". It earned me a glare from both my mother and uncle, but I had managed to dispel some of the tension radiating between them.

"And I thought that bastard you ran off with was a mage, not a jester", Gamlen grumbled, turning to me. "Your mother was supposed to marry the Comte de Launcet, but instead she ran off with some Ferelden apostate". He turned back to mother, sneering, "you don't get to stay the favorite when you do that".

She looked at him coldly, unimpressed by his attitude, "If I could just see father's will for myself, where is it?"

For some reason her question put Gamlen on the defensive. "It's not here all right!" he exclaimed, "It was read and went into the vault." He glared at the three of us, "No one needed to read it again".

The way he was suddenly balking made me skeptical. "Did grandfather mention Mother in his will at all" I asked?

"Our father died when you were still in pinafores, girl," he scoffed at me. "You can hardly expect me to remember something so trivial".

Carver broke in, "Oh, of course not. Why should you do anything reasonable".

I kicked him in the shin and he glared at me too. Great. "Don't you start too", I whispered, then aloud I added, "All I know about our grandparents is that they were nobility, not much else". A sudden thought struck me and I turned to mother, "You don't talk about them much. Why?"

She seemed to draw into herself a little before answering me, turning so her shoulder was a shield between us, "The Amells have been a noble family in Kirkwall since Garahel drove out the Fourth Blight". She looked down, "But we've always carried magic in our blood". I blinked at that. I had thought that my magic came only from my father's side of the family. Mother shifted uncomfortably, "It's been a stain on our lineage. No family of good standing would ever marry into a line with magic". She wouldn't make eye contact with my brother or I, and I had the strange feeling that she was almost, _ashamed_.

She took a breath "When I chose your father… well, I was bringing more magic into the bloodline, not less". She sighed, "I think that's what hurt them the most". She stared at the floor, lost in thought.

"The will touched a nerve",I mused, "what's in there you don't want us to see"? His hurried, "Nothing", was loud enough that I looked at him sharply, more suspicious now than I had been before. He rushed on, "But you won't be seeing the bloody thing. It's still locked up on the estate, and that's long gone from my hands".

Carver was appalled, "What daft bastard leaves that behind"? he demanded.

Gamlen shrugged off the question. "It was old news, You think I've been sitting here for twenty five years just waiting for Leandra to slink back?" He looked at Carver disgustedly.

Mother interrupted, voice tired, "Who bought the estate, Gamlen?" She heaved out a breath, "Perhaps I could speak to them. Was it the Reinhardts?"

Gamlen snorted, "No one you know, dear sister. Get used to Lowtown", he taunted, "it's where you're staying". With that he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving mother to stand desolately by the fire. She stared sadly into the flames, and I wanted to comfort her, but couldn't think of anything to say to appease the situation.

Carver made a small noise and motioned for me to join him across the room. "Maker, what a mess" he said quietly when I approached, "I want things to go better for mother, but some of the things Gamlen says", he shook his head, "I'm having a hard time hating him".

I was a little surprised and it must have shown on my face because he gave me a long-suffering look. "Playing caretaker for someone elses life, always in their shadow", he shrugged, "It's no way to live".

I managed to resist rolling my eyes, but only just. "And there it is", I said scathingly, "the root of all our problems".

He pouted at me a little, "look, if you want to join the fight about who lost the most, be my guest. But I never lived here, I didn't know these people". He gestured widely, "Mother even gave me her old key to try and stir something". He shook his head, "Finding the will doesn't matter to me at all".

I nodded. I could understand where he was coming from. In all truth, none of it mattered that much to me either. I didn't care about some empty title, except that it might help keep the templars off my back. But it did matter to mother. "Mother tried her best to give us everything we need, I think she's due the same," I murmured.

Carver smiled a little, "Oh, I see her side", he agreed, "Gamlen's definitely an ass". I had to grin at that. "But it's not like we can just ask slavers to give that life back", he continued, soberly. I felt my eyebrows shoot up at that.

"What have you heard" I questioned, I hadn't heard anything about slavers yet.

Carver huffed out a laugh, "Uncle's a chatty drunk, apparently he was up to his neck and signed the whole thing over. That's who has the estate".

I could feel my teeth grinding, I hated slavers. That there were a bunch of the scum hiding out in a place my family had once owned, seemed like a personal insult. Carver must have shared my visceral reaction, because he growled, "Apparently the best wine cellar in Kirkwall is now a highway from the Undercity".

"That", I said carefully, "sounds like an arrangement that needs to change". Carver gave me a fierce grin, showing his teeth. "We can go in and clean it out from the bottom up", his smile was savage as I made the suggestion. "And if", I added, "we happen to find the will", I shrugged a shoulder, "all the better". I thought for a moment, "Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk to Varric first and see if he would be willing to come along as well". When Carver looked at me curiously I clarified, "We can use all the help we can get if we plan to take out a major slave ring".

"You're probably right", He conceded, "why don't you go talk to him, see if he's interested. I have some, other things, I need to take care of before we go". I gave him a quizzical glance, but didn't press. I would enjoy some time to myself, and I really, _really _didn't want to know what my brother got up to when I wasn't around.

"Fine, meet me at the Hanged Man in about half an hour, ok" I asked?

"Sure" he grunted. That seemed to be all I was going to get out of him, so I took my leave.

The Hanged Man is a rather popular tavern for everyone in Kirkwall, never mind that it sits in all its rather dingy glory right on the edge of the Lowtown slums. A large bazaar surrounds the blocky building, not as well off as the market square in Hightown, but still, there is usually a crowd. The Hanged Man itself is marked by a rather impressive effigy of a man hung upside down by one foot. The figure is suspended above the door by a thick rope, and sways alarmingly in the strong winds that blow in from the ocean. I hate walking under the stupid thing.

The bazaar was teaming as usual, and as I picked my way through the throng, I caught sight of a knot of people crowded around a man. I caught what he was saying as I was passing by

"A pouch of Andraste's ashes" He proclaimed, holding up a scarred leather bag. I stopped, curious. I knew there were rumors that the resting place of the prophetess' ashes had been found, but I doubted that the church would let someone like this sell them on the street. I know a shell game when I see one.

"It's got the power to heal any ailment" the con man continued, "Verified by Brother Genitivi himself". I rolled my eyes, preparing to move on, when I caught the eye of a guardswoman. She was visibly seething with anger. I made my way over to her as a woman in the crowed let off a few feeble coughs and volunteered to try the ashes. I greeted the guardswoman quietly, not actually looking at her.

"You're Aveline's friend aren't you", she asked softly, staring straight ahead as well "the one with the Red Irons?"

"Not any more", I replied lightly, "I was only with them for the year".

"Aveline says you're good people, and I'm inclined to trust her", she said, then jerked her chin toward the crowd who was starting to disperse, "Every coin those swindlers get goes straight into the Cartas coffers." She grimaced, "They need to be stopped, but our hands are tied".

I quirked an eyebrow, "It would be nice if someone took a disliking to them wouldn't it". She still didn't look at me, but I could see her smile out of the corner of my eye as she said, "Strictly speaking, I cannot condone citizens taking the law into their own hands, but if this lot met with a mysterious end in some Lowtown back alley, I doubt anyone would complain".

"hmm, perhaps they will be struck down by the Maker for their blasphemy", I said, then left. I didn't want to stick around and make her a target for the Carta, or worse, her commander. Especially if I intended to make sure they were struck down, though I doubted the Maker would have much to do with it. Besides, I was never the most law abiding citizen, and what the guard couldn't do, I most certainly could.

Oh, I followed the laws when they suited me, or when I was sure to get caught, but sometimes they got in the way of doing the right thing. As may be supposed, this was a point of contention between Aveline the Guardswoman and myself. She could get over it though, I don't like living with a guilty conscience. After all, as an apostate mage, technically, my very existence is illegal. I kept a sharp eye out for templars and swindlers alike on the way to the Hanged Man, but saw no evidence of either. Lucky me.

There is a very good reason my family doesn't like to let me go out on my own, I'm not much good in single combat. I really hate casting any sort of harmful magic, so I don't know any good offensive spells. If I am caught on my own, the best I can do is freeze them in place and hightail it out of there. I don't make a very good target though, unless someone is looking for me specifically. I'm a little shorter than average, which is a boon when trying to hide in a crowd, and my dark brown hair and eyes make me harder to pick out. Sometimes, looking just like everyone else has its perks.

My fortune stayed good, Varric was in the common room of the tavern when I entered. He waved me over.

"Your brother not coming?" he asked as I approached.

I shrugged, "Perhaps, perhaps not, I never know with him". I pulled a sour face, "He's not much for planning sessions, he's more of a 'hack now, ask question later' person".

Varric gave an amused snort. "I can see that", he said, "Fortunately you seem the planning type, so it works out". He led me up the stairs to a suite of rooms. "So, here's the thing", he explained, taking a seat on a stocky chair by an equally stocky table, "we need to find a way into the Deep Roads." I pursed my lips, leaning on the back of the chair next to him as he continued, "Bartrand can get us where we need to go once we're there, but we need a good entrance".

"A 'good' entrance? Any entrance would work wouldn't it" I enquired? "Unless, of course," I added thoughtfully, "there were a dragon sitting on top of it".

Varric smirked, "We need an entrance that is close to our destination, isn't filled with darkspawn, and hasn't been plundered already."

I sat. I liked his chairs, they were obviously made for a dwarf because my feet sat firmly on the floor, not leaving my heels a couple of inches above. I wondered where I could get some similar. Probably nowhere I could afford. Ah well. I propped my elbows on the table, leaning my chin on my hands. A few stray strands of hair had come free of the headband and were curling gently over my eye. I eyed him through the dark strands. "That's quite the criteria".

He nodded amiably, "fortunately, I have some new information". He gestured to the stack of papers on the table, "there is a Grey Warden in the city, and if anyone knows how to get to the Deep Roads, it will be him".

I raised my eyebrows at that, I didn't like the idea of messing with a Warden. They were a tough group. I knew that the current king of Fereldan is a Warden, and that they go through some sort of secret ritual to make them better fighters or something, but that was about it. "Why would a Grey Warden know that" I asked, voicing my scepticism.

"The Wardens go down the Deep Roads even when there is no blight," he answered. "Even if he doesn't know, he might be able to point us to those who do".

His answer didn't do much to still the trepidation I felt about talking to a warden, but I had to admit it did seem the best course of action. "Sounds like you have this all planned out Varric." I remarked.

He didn't miss the amused edge in my voice, and gave me a slight bow. "That is why I am here Messer", he smirked. Then added, business-like once again, "the Warden is supposed to have come in with some other Fereldan refugees not long ago. A woman by the name of Lirene has been helping the Fereldan's in Lowtown. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is". We stood and he added, "I'll keep after my contacts, see if I can drum up any more work for you".

"Thanks", I said, and meant it. I remembered the other thing I had meant to talk to him about, "Oh, by the way, would you mind helping my brother and I clear out some slavers"?

He cocked his head at me. "What have you heard, Hawke", he asked, copper eyes cunning as they gazed at me.

I pushed the escaped curl out of my face, "My mother's old home is apparently now part of a slave highway in the Undercity, and her father's will is still there in a vault". I grinned at him, "I was hoping to take care of two problems at the same time".

He frowned thoughtfully, "How do you plan to get in"?

I brandished the cellar key with a flourish. "This" I said triumphantly, "It's supposed to get us into the 'secret exit' in the wine cellar, I think it's in Darktown somewhere. Carver knows more than I do, it's his key." I dangled the key by the leather thong it was threaded on.

Varric stared at me for a couple of seconds, then let out a rich laugh, like warm honey, "Maker, Hawke, you don't do things by halves, do you". He started toward the common room, still chuckling, and clapped me on the back as he passed, "I think I'm going to enjoy our time together". I followed him out, thinking that I was also going to enjoy getting to know this strange dwarf.


	3. Chapter 3

Carver was waiting for us in the tavern as Varric and I came down the stairs. He had not been there long, judging by the level of ale in his mug. I raised my eyebrows at him when he looked my way. He downed the rest of the alcohol in one long pull, tossed some coins onto the table and rose unsteadily to meet us.

I eyed him uncertainly as he wove his way toward us. He couldn't have been drunk already, could he?

"Soo", Carver drawled, "What has my great and mighty sister planned for us, Hmm?" I leaned in and sniffed at my brother, recoiling when I caught the scent of the bad ale he had been drinking. He glared at me self-consciously when I quirked my eyebrow at him.

"You were taking a long time, I was bored and thirsty. Don't give me that look", he protested.

I rolled my eyes, but was privately relieved that the mug had not held anything stronger. I nudged him towards the door. "You could have come up and met us", I told him, "that way I wouldn't have to repeat myself now". I cast him a sour look, and he adopted an air of injured innocence, which did not sit as well on a burly, six-foot man as one might think. I smirked, "That doesn't work as well as it did when you were three, dear brother".

Varric laughed, "You need to step up the younger brother bit. It would probably help if you were shorter than her". Carver shot the dwarf a nasty look, and I thought he might haul off and punch Varric, but my brother just took a deep breath and turned towards the door.

"Hey", I protested, "don't you want to hear where we are going?"

Carver huffed and stalked towards the door, mumbling loud enough I could still hear him halfway across the room, "It wouldn't make a difference, would it. You've already decided where too, you don't need my input."

I stared after him, exasperated. Maybe I should have made him come with me, that might have kept him from feeling left out, but he hadn't wanted to go. He was an adult, he could make his own decisions.

"Wow" Varric murmured, breaking my train of thought, "Is he always like this?" The distaste in his voice was palpable. I nodded gloomily, and the dwarf shook his head in disbelief, "And I thought I had it hard in the sibling department." He chuckled when he saw the stormy expression on my face. "Don't worry," he patted my arm, "He'll grow out of it".

I glanced away from Varric just in time to see Carver disappear out the door. "Andraste's flaming ass" I growled, "Where is that boy going". I took off toward the door, not waiting for Varric to catch up. Navigating a bar room quickly is difficult, especially when, for some reason, there are chairs suddenly leaping out in front of you. Really it should come as no surprise that I tripped, and would have landed on my face if it had not been for my new friend. One moment I was tumbling, arms flailing everywhere, the next something catches my vest from behind. I cautiously peered over my shoulder to see who it was. Varric stood right behind me and was casually holding a chunk of my vest.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "I wouldn't try getting acquainted with this floor, Hawke" he said, giving my vest a little tug to help me back up, "I've seen the boots that walk on it".

I straightened up, feeling the heat rush to my face, sure the entire bar had seen my near accident. By the door, Carver had poked his head back in to see the commotion, and was wiping tears from his eyes he was laughing so hard. I wrenched at my tunic, attempting to hide my embarrassment in smoothing my clothing. Straight faced I picked my way carefully across the rest of the floor, trying valiantly to ignore the snickering dwarf following a couple of paces behind.

Only once we were out of the fetid air of the bar, did my brother finally stop laughing. I did my best to preserve the shreds of my dignity, and calmly scanned the streets for any Templars who were on the hunt. It was a habit I'd picked up shortly after landing in Kirkwall and learning how bad the Circle of Magi was in the city. As I glanced over the street, I caught someone who looked familiar out of the corner of my eye, but Carver said my name before I could look any closer.

"Cat," He said, with the air of someone repeating themselves.

I turned my attention to him, "Huh"?

He rolled his eyes, "I was just asking where we are going, remember that Aveline wanted to see us about something". I glanced back at the place I had seen the man, trying to place him, losing track of what my brother was saying in the process.

"Hey" Carer interjected, nudging me "Are you even listening to me"?

"What?" I said, my brain rapidly trying to recall what he had been saying. "Oh, yeah, sorry. We need to go talk to someone before we leave Lowtown" I craned my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the man again. Varric was looking at me quizickly, glancing in the direction I kept staring, and back to me. I shook my head, "Sorry, I thought I saw some…" I trailed off, recognition flaring suddenly. I stared hard in the direction the man had disappeared. I knew who it was, he was the swindler who had sold the 'Saints Ashes' earlier. "Come on", I said quietly, and started for the alley.

Carver spluttered, "But. What?", before heaving a long-suffering sigh and loosening the strap that held his great sword in its scabbard.

Varric voiced his own protest, "Hawke, you're going the wrong way".

"No, I'm not", I threw back over my shoulder, tightening my grip on the wood of my staff, "There's someone else we need to talk to".

Behind me I heard Carver mutter, "When she takes off like this, she usually has a good reason, though we probably won't know what it is till someone's shooting at us".

"She charges off often" Varric queried, sounding as though he was rethinking his association with us.

I could almost hear Carvers shrug when he replied, "Not without reason, and she never resorts to fighting unless she has to". Varric seemed mollified somewhat with that explanation, and I heard him also loosen the strap on his weapon.

"This should be good", he muttered, hurrying after my brother and I.

I slipped around the corner, into a nearly deserted alley. The man I had seen stood at the end, talking to a group dwarves wearing Carta issue armor. The hair on the back of my neck prickled a little when I realized that this would be a perfect place for someone to, say, ambush someone else. I ignored my discomfort and strode purposefully toward the group. As one they turned to face me, and I could see them all reach for their weapons.

"Not one step closer little girl", one of the dwarves sneered at me.

"No refunds", the man barked, "If you didn't get your miracle, take it up with the Maker, not me."

The smirk I felt on my face must have been intimidating, because when I took another step toward the group, they all fell back a pace. Or I suppose it could have had something to do with the six foot man wielding a sword taller than I am. Or the dwarf with the wickedly sharp grin and even sharper crossbow bolt pointed at them. Nah, had to be my smile.

"Get em", came a gruff voice from the back. It seemed to rally the rest of the group. When they heard the command, they all charged. I heard a soft twang from my left as something whipped by me. On my other side, Carver let out a roar and charged into the fray. I planted the butt of my staff firmly against the ground, letting my mind go blank as another bolt from the crossbow whistled by and found its mark. I lifted the staff and brought it back down, releasing the energy within into the ground. In a circle surrounding myself and Varric, purple runes glowed up out of the earth. He glanced at them for a second, then grinned back at me, shooting another Carta dwarf.

Casting spells in the middle of a fight is hard for me. All of my magic requires me to be calm and focused, completely centered, so I have learned to be very good at ignoring everything else. I am detached from everything, which is good for casting spells, not so good for me if I get hit. I don't tend to notice little things like arrows, or swords for that matter. In that state I can sort of feel the minds of the people around me, I know where they are, and who they are. That's the only way to heal on the battlefield.

I stretched out my mind a little to find the bright spot that was my brother. He was not injured overly much, but I sent a warm pulse his way. Loosely holding him in my mind, I reached and found Varric. The dwarf was not injured yet, but my shield ward was beginning to deteriorate. Dreamily I lifted my staff and twirled it, recasting the ward, then shooting a bolt from the staff at the nearest Carta member.

Carver was in the middle of the fray, deftly blocking blows and powering through the other combatants parys. What he gained in brute force, he lost in maneuverability however, and one of the dwarves managed to get a lucky strike into my brothers thigh before being decapitated. The curse Carver spat sounded as though it were coming through several layers of cotton as I sent another healing pulse his way.

"How many have you got, Hawke", I heard Varric yell, somewhere behind me. I struggled to hold both men and the shield while healing Carver, but I felt it began to crumble again. This time I let it go, shooting a few more bolts from the staff. I felt the magic falter a little, and I lazily reached for a lyrium potion. There was a moment of discomfort in my hip as my fingers brushed something that wasn't supposed to be there. I paid it no mind as I found the potion and pulled out the stopper.

Suddenly, the world rushed back to me, like a splash of icy water thrown in my face. I stumbled forward, gasping, and looked up, only to find that the last of the Carta had been taken down. I took a deep breath and looked to see what had jolted me out of my revery.

Varric had ahold of my wrist, and was looking at me with deep concern. I stared at him for a second, then the pain hit. I doubled over and my knees gave out.

"Hawke, Hawke, are you OK"? I could just hear him over the buzzing in my ears. He caught my wrist before I could reach for the arrow protruding from my hip. "Don't pull it out, you'll do more damage. We should get you to a healer. I glared at him muzzily through the haze of pain.

I was about to tell him where he could shove the stinking arrow, and the healer, when I heard another shout.

"Cat"!

Carver rushed to my side, kneeling down by me and almost shoving Varric out of the way to see the injury. He visibly relaxed when he saw it was not life threatening, but still winced when he took in the blood oozing out. "Ouch", he whistled, "Hold still, I'll get it". Then, without so much as a 'brace yourself', he yanked the arrow out. I yelped. It hurt more than it had when the stupid thing was still in my leg.

I concentrated for a moment, and felt a wash of relief as the magic swirled down my side and into the injury. "Damn" I muttered, looking at the fresh hole in my shirt, and the bloodstain surrounding it. I was going to have to get a new shirt.

Varric looked at me, almost impressed. "I guess I was right about you, Hawke", he commented, looking around at the fresh corpses. "Now, would you mind telling us what that was all about"?

I laughed, and started going through the dead mens pockets. Much as I hated death, I had to be pragmatic about the situation. They don't need the stuff anymore, and whatever I can't use, I'll sell. I works out for everyone, well, except the dead guys, but they don't count.

I explained the situation to the other two while we cleaned up the mess. "I was hoping that I could just talk to them, I really hate having to do this", I finished, gestured to the mess. Looking at the pile of dead people I wondered how many of them had wives to go to, children to feed. I had to close my eyes and turn away before I started to throw up, or worse, cry.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I leaned into the comfort of my little brother. "It's OK, Cat" He murmured to me, "The carta members don't go for family, you know that". I nodded and pushed the gloomy thoughts away, though I knew that they would come back to haunt me some other time.

I nudged Varric with my elbow, "Nice shooting, I've never seen a crossbow quite like that before".

He patted the well oiled wood lovingly, "That's Bianca for you".

I threw my arms around both men and began propelling them back toward the street.

"Come on", I exclaimed, "Let's go catch ourselves a Grey Warden".


	4. Chapter 4

Lirene's place of business was not exactly easy to find, which is saying something, considering how small Lowtown is. We had to go looking down several dead end alleys before we found her. I almost wished we hadn't. There were several people sitting outside of the building, all of them Fereldan, and none of them looking well. My stomach churned a little, as bad off as my family seemed, these people were worse. Most of them were sick, and I was sure that none of them had the money for a healer.

My first instinct was to drop everything I was working on and set to helping them. Carver put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and he shook his head slightly.

"You can't heal the world, Cat", he chided gently. My stomach churned. I knew what he said was true, but I hated seeing people in this situation when I knew I could help them.

I glared up at my little brother, shrugging out from under his hand. "I know I can't," I spat, "but I could do some real good here". I gestured emphatically at the people in the alley. "They need help, help I could give them".

Varric stepped up beside me. "Hawke", he soothed, "You will be able to help them more when you don't have to worry about your mother starving, don't you think? Let's finish here, then you will be free to help all you want".

"Besides," Carver broke in, whispering, "you don't want the whole of Kirkwall knowing you are an apostate, do you. We have enough Templars on our trail as it is".

I sighed, shoulders slumping. Both the men had good points, and I couldn't argue with their logic, but I didn't have to like it. I marched through the door as Carver held it for me, and stopped dead. If the alley outside had been bad, the inside was hell. There was a riot of people inside, all clamoring for the attention of a youngish, dark haired woman who stood behind a makeshift counter. The smell of so many unwashed bodies mixed with the scent of rotting food to make an almost tangible stench. I found myself clenching my teeth to avoid gagging, and from the look on Varrics face, he was doing the same.

Carver pushed his way to the front of the line, leaving me to slip along in his wake, apologizing to the many complaints voiced.

The woman behind the counter stared down her nose at me in disapproval once I pushed my way passed Carver. My cheeks burned when she sneered at me. "If you want aid, wait your turn, though I doubt there is anything we could do for the likes of _you._"

Behind me, Carver shifted uncomfortably. I squared my shoulders and resolutely faced her, "Is there any way I could help these people"? I asked. She quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, then let out a long sigh.

"If you really want to help", she acquiesced, "there is a box for donations out front". Her mouth thinned a bit and she gave me a hard look, "Was that it, or do you actually need something".

I cast a guilty look over my shoulder, wincing at the dark looks my small group was getting from the people crowding into the building.

"We're looking for someone", Carver said quietly over my shoulder. I glanced up to see him looming over me, deftly ignoring the others in the building. The woman became instantly wary. I wanted to kick Carver, he had made getting information out of her that much harder by putting her on the defencive. I gave him a hard look, which he ignored, and then let out a long breath.

"We heard you might know the location of a Ferelden grey warden", I said quietly. I did not want to have the whole place knowing what we were up to. She crossed her arms and frowned down at me.

"Only Ferelden grey warden I know of is sitting on the throne", she retorted, loud enough to make me wince. She sneared, "Why do you think you need a warden anyway, thinking to join"? I glanced around the room guiltily. There was a group of men nearby who looked as though they might overheard more than they should have. As one they stared back at me, eyes hard, till I looked away. I shifted a little, putting the bulk of my brother in between the scowling men and myself.

"Please", I asked, "this is important". My plea had no discernable effect on the woman, who continued the stare woodenly at me. My heart sank, and I traded looks with Varric. He shrugged as if to say it was up to me. I made a face at him, then turned back to the woman, prepared to get nasty with her if I had to.

Just then a little voice piped up from on side, "Isn't the healer a warden"?

Both the woman and I turned to gawk at the speaker, a young girl, who turned red and ducked her head when we looked at her. I heard the woman swear under her breath, and had to fight to keep a triumphant smile from my face. We were on the right track at least. Now we just needed to find out where he was.

Carver crouched down by the girl, making her blush even more when he smiled at her. "Do you know where we can find him"? he asked quietly. The poor girl was too embarrassed to do anything more than nod. My brother looked back up at me, and I could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

The older woman huffed, "All right, so he might have been a warden, that doesn't mean he needs to be pestered with stupid questions about it". She shook her head sadly, "He's been through enough with out people dredging up the past".

I could not resist rolling my eyes this time, "Then I'll only ask smart questions" I quipped. "Honestly woman, do you really think I'd be bothering to find him if it wasn't important"?

She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment I thought she might hit me. I guess Carver thought so as well, for he stood back up to his full height and glared right back at her. She threw up her hands in disgust, "Fine, but if you harm him, I swear you won't survive long enough to regret your choices. Go to Darktown, look for the lit lantern, he will be there. See you don't bring the Templars". With that she turned and left, stalking away, her anger very apparent in every move.

I rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my hand before looking around to see if the girl was still there, hoping to have her lead us to this Healer. She wasn't, this day just kept getting better and better.

"Well" Varric drawled, "That went well". Carver made a sound of disbelief, but the dry tone the dwarf said it in made me smile. I had to admit, having someone with a sense of humor along did a lot to make a day better. And things could have gone worse, after all, no one had called the guard in on us.

"Better than it could have," I agreed cheerfully, "we didn't have to cut anyone up, and so far no one has tried to stab me".

Varric smirked up at me, "That's the spirit Hawke, always look on the bright side".

Carver stared at us incredulously, then turned on his heel and marched towards the door, muttering something about being surrounded by complete and utter idiots. I tried to contain my amusement for his sake, as I hurried out the door.

My good mood only lasted as far as the door. The moment we stepped out into the afternoon sun, we were accosted. I vaguely recognized him as one of the hard-eyed men from inside. He stood at the end of the alley, blocking our exit. I could see at least a handful of others watching too keenly to be casual observers. Carver was about to draw his sword, but I put a hand on his arm, shaking my head when he glanced at me. The group of men eased their own hands away from various weaponry, though maintained their watchful stances. I cautiously approached the fellow blocking our path. He shifted uneasily as I came closer, but held his position, arms crossed over his chest.

He jerked his chin towards us and the building we had just left. "Heard you asking about the healer", his voice was gruff with warning. I pinched the bridge of my nose, grimacing. Why did everyone assume we wanted to bring harm to this 'healer'? I opened my mouth to argue, but was cut off when the man continued.

"He's been nothing but a help to the Fereldens here, and we won't have you bring any harm to him. We know what happens to mages here".

Carver spoke up then, talking loudly over my head. "Hey, look, we're Fereldan too. What makes you think we'd do anything to anything to cause trouble for one of our own"? I glanced up at him, surprised. He had, over the past year, tried to distance himself from the other Ferelden people, mostly because of the contempt showered down on them from the Kirkwall populace. And, I supposed, because the Templars here were more suspicious of the refugees than anything else, and for all his complaining about living in my shadow, my little brother had no interest whatsoever of seeing me locked in the circle tower.

I felt a rush of sisterly warmth toward the young man, followed quickly by annoyance at his next words.

"We've got enough trouble from the Templars as it is".

I barely managed to resist rolling my eyes, but my brothers words had the desired effect, and the man motioned at the others behind him to disburse.

"Sorry", he mumbled, "you don't look Ferelden in those clothes, thought you were just makin' trouble". He cast a distrustful glance over our small group. "You be careful". Then they were gone.

I heaved a sigh of relief, glad the disaster had been averted. Glancing up at my brother, I caught him staring after the departed group with distaste. He turned the glare on me when I touched his elbow, and I arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Another delicate Mage-Flower to put up with", he muttered, jerking his arm away from me. "You heard them say he was a mage right" he asked? I nodded, narrowing my eyes when I saw his shoulders slump as he took a couple steps away. "Great," he snapped, "Just what we need, more Templar bait".

My fraying temper snapped, "If you don't like what I am doing to help the family, you can just go home", I seethed, stalking forward towards my offending sibling, quite forgetting Varric. That is, until I bumped into his shoulder. Startled, I glanced down to find the dwarf shaking his head ever so slightly. I heaved a sigh, my anger cooling as the realization that the middle of a street was not the place to get into a shouting match with my brother finally wormed into my skull.

I turned on my heel and strode toward the open street. Okay, so maybe I was still angry, but justifiably so. It wasn't my brother who was going to have even the ability to dream stripped from him should we get caught, it wasn't my brother who would be forced into a glorified prison. I knew all the risks, I knew having more than one apostate mage in a building was asking for trouble. But having a good roof over my mothers head, Maker, putting a better roof over my uncles head was worth the risk. They were all the family I had left, and nothing was going to keep me from doing right for them. It was the least I could do. I couldn't bring Bethany back, but I could get my mother out of a place where the rats were almost as big as her dog.


End file.
